


Where We Were and Where We Are

by wolfpawn



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cutting, Gen, Self-Harm, Triggers, Tumblr: imagine-loki, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfpawn/pseuds/wolfpawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trigger Warning - Self Harm. </p><p>Imagine being Loki’s maid and one day while carrying out your normal duties, you accidentally walk in on Loki harming himself with a knife. Before he can yell at you to get out, you flash him your own cuts and scars. After convincing him to let you clean his wounds, you sit in each other’s company for the rest of the night, in nothing but an understanding silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where We Were and Where We Are

**Author's Note:**

> I asked today if anyone had ideas for a One Shot for me, and this was requested, it is an Imagine Loki prompt from a few weeks back, so I obliged, even though it is not the most comfortable of topics for many people. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING - Self Harm. 
> 
> If you feel the need to Self-Harm, please try to alleviate the feelings causing that with another more positive activity. But if you do harm yourself, you are not a failure, you are not worthless, you are simply still fighting, and you can win with time. Try to talk to someone, even if you are not ready to talk to a professional, talk to someone close to you, who you feel will not judge you, who will listen.

It had been a long day, there had been more cleaning than usual in Loki’s quarters, because of the bimonthly deep cleaning, meaning the polishing of door knobs, dusting the skirting boards, the usual, so it was a tiring day, and you could not wait until your evening ended. Noticing the time, you went to the kitchens and retrieved Loki’s dinner, he had informed you he was not dining with the rest of the royal family that evening, so instead you had to serve it in his quarters. You gave it to him, for which he thanked you, and you went about preparing for the last of your evening chores while he ate, knowing that you would finally get the rest you were yearning for when he completed his meal and you returned the tray to the kitchens. 

After completing the last of the general tidying of Loki’s drawing room, you sighed and cleaned your hands on the apron on your dress before heading back to his bedroom, where he had decided to eat. Knocking once, you entered not a moment later, knowing that Loki was well used to the routine after nearly a century in his service.

What greeted you when you entered the room however, caused you to stop and stare. Loki was staring at his forearm, a small trickle of crimson flowing from it, one of his beloved daggers in his hand, its silver blade covered in blood on one side. Bringing the blade to the skin again, he slid it across and another trickle followed the first. He was so engrossed in his actions; he did not seem to notice you standing open mouthed in the doorway. He lifted his arm up to inspect his wounds when finally his eye caught the figure in the doorway looking at him. Immediately he pulled his hand back down and his eyes filled with anger, he opened his mouth to dismiss you but you put your hands up immediately to silence him. 

“Don’t.” He frowned. “I get it.” He scoffed dismissively. Rather than take insult or say anymore, you instead walked over and took the blood marred blade, which he relinquished without comment, and brought it to your sleeve, which went halfway down your forearm, and gently, you glide it down the material until it came to the lacing at the end, tearing it and revealing your own forearm to him. His eyes grew wide. There were over a hundred silver lines, not an inch in length, and all depths littering the skin, some were barely scabbed over, not even a day old. “The other arm is the same.” You stated, not sure if you would do the same to the other side. “You cut deep.” You took his wrist with your smaller hand. “I’ll get something to clean it with, the sooner you catch it, the less it scars.” You walked into the bathroom and got a small jug, filling it with water, retrieved some ointment and taking a small cloth, you walked back into the bedroom, where Loki was still sitting silently on the window seat with his arm raised and looking at the blood. 

Sitting across from him, you took his wrist again, and dabbing the side of the cloth in the water, you cleaned around the wounds, not allowing the water to touch the cuts themselves. When you cleaned the excess blood away, you pressed the dry part against the wounds, watching the scarlet fluid soaking into the cloth. Readying the ointment on the finger of your other hand, which you washed while in the bathroom, as soon as you lifted the cloth away, you dabbed the ointment on. Loki hissed slightly, the ointment burning at the fresh wound, but the gasp at the end you recognised, the feeling of pain being numbed, not by the ointment, but by your body, it was the guilty pleasure that you sought, stupidly and blindly. You did the same to the other one, the ointment forcing the blood to remain unshed. With his wrist still being held in your hand, you inspected his other scars, there weren’t too many, he had not been doing it for long, on his arms anyway, you had no idea if there were more elsewhere. Looking to his face, you noticed that he was inspecting your arm, years of cutting had left no area of real estate unmarked, there were areas where the skin was raised a good bit above the area surrounding it, showing that there was several attacks on that line alone. You didn’t remember them all, you knew some of them, the deepest were the ones you remembered most. Not the act of cutting itself, that always seemed to be a blur, but the reason behind them. Being called fat by one who pretended to love you, or when your mother called you stupid and useless, that had hurt more than anything a man could ever say. You remembered, and even when you had escaped the perpetrators, their words remained, as too did the cutting. 

You wondered what caused Loki to do it, was it the manner in which the Allfather’s commented about him being born to rule as was his brother, only for him to never really show him such favour, was it the manner in which Thor was surrounded in adoration while he remained silently watching behind it all, or was it peoples comments that he was nothing in the shadow of his brother, you didn’t really care, it was not your place to judge. 

"Thank you." His voice was small, quiet in the large room and totally at odds with his usually confident demeanour. Looking at him, his own eyes showed no judgement, just the same curiosity you too had shown, he was probably wondering what a maid had to trouble her, but he said nothing; neither of you did. You simply sat there in mutual silence. It was peculiar, considering that you both had admitted to something so personal, private and even taboo, but it was a comfortable silence; one of understanding. You always wanted to admit to your dirty habit, to have someone know, so it was not boiling over inside of you, but you had been too scared to tell anyone. Now someone knew, and you knew you would not be a source of gossip for them, because he shared the same secret. The look in his eyes showed he thought the same, so silently you remained seated there, for what could have been an hour or several, you had no idea, it felt so serene.


End file.
